


Things You Said Under the Stars, and in the Grass

by ExpatGirl



Series: They're Not Small, They're Bijoux: One-Shots and Mini-Fic [2]
Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Fortitude Pass, Poetry, Pre-Canon, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl
Summary: It snowed for a day, and a night, and a day.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BurningTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/gifts).



> For those of you who don't remember (or didn't immediately go and memorize it, after it was mentioned in the episode, like I did), the poem in question is Hopkins' ["The Windhover"](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/core-poems/detail/44402).
> 
> A mini-fic based on a tumblr prompt.

The storm sounds like it will never die down, though he assures her it will, eventually. He’s warm against her, but even so, she feels her blood turn sluggish from cold. He talks to her about--about ice, a lot of the time. How does someone know so much about _ice_? He talks to her about boxing; about Inuit myth; about trees, first the properties of their sap, and then, all the different ways he finds them beautiful. His eyes shine. She wonders if he has any friends.

She doesn’t talk about much of anything. What’s there to tell? And she knows her rights. She knows she shouldn’t say anything without a lawyer present.

“You talk too much,” she says tiredly, shivering. When did he start holding her hands?

“Sorry,” he says, and by god, he almost sounds like he means it.

****

“I didn’t even want to rob that goddamn bank,” she says bitterly. She feels as though she might shiver all her bones out of place.

“Why did you?” he asks, after a pause. He seems to be an inexhaustible source of heat, but she can feel the faint tremor in his limbs that means he’s shivering, too. When did he wrap his arms around her? When did she return the favor? The look in his eyes is so soft she has to look away from it.

“Because,” she says, against his chest, “some of us don’t get second chances.”

****

The storm continues. It seems like it will swallow the whole world. At some point, she starts talking. She tells him about ballet lessons, about the summer house, about when it all went wrong when she was fourteen, and kept going wrong. A whole decade of wrong, ending up here, frozen to death in some godforsaken corner of the world.

“I’m not going to let you die,” he says fiercely. “We are not dying here.”

She laughs, somehow, and kisses his cheek. “Normally I hate optimists,” she says. “But you--you’re different, Constable.”

He winces. “I wish you’d call me by my name,” he says.

“Hmm, okay.” She feels extremely tired.

“I need you to stay awake, Victoria.”

“Victoria? What happened to Miss Metcalf?”

He says something, but she doesn’t catch it, intent on the way it feels when he strokes her hair. “You’re nice,” she murmurs. “You’re the only kind person I’ve met in…years.” She closes her eyes.

****

She opens her eyes and sees stars. Summer constellations. Familiar. She feels grass under her back, brushing along her arms and legs and smells the cool green smell of settling dew. Thank god, she’s finally warm. She sits up and looks around. It’s the hill behind the summer house, and she’s wearing her favorite red sundress.

“Cygnus,” she says.

He sits up next to her. He must be sweltering in his winter uniform. “Hm?”

She points. Her arm is bare and white in the moonlight. “The constellation, Cygnus. This was one of my favorite places to go star-watching. I liked Cygnus best because...look, Deneb.”

He nods, but he’s looking at her face. “The brightest in the constellation. And one of the most luminous in the whole sky,” he says.

She casts a glance at him and ducks her head. “Someone once told me that in a million years it’ll become a pole star.”

“Ah. Actually...around seven thousand years would be a more accurate estimation.”

“Shut up,” she says, grinning.

“My apologies.”

“Isn’t it strange how something that seems so fixed--something people used to sail by!--can change like that?”

  
“Yes,” he says, still watching her. “Yes, it is.”

She kisses him, and he startles slightly. His hands hover uncertainly around her waist, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to put them there, before he pulls her to him.

****

She realizes he’s stopped talking. Her hands are warm--searingly so--and there’s a weight on top of her. She opens her eyes and sees that he’s placed her fingers in his mouth. So they don’t freeze, she realizes. _Oh_. He’s gone pale, and his face is cold. She can barely feel his heartbeat anymore. He’s dying. He’s dying, and he’s still trying to keep his promise to her.

“Benton,” she says, and his eyelids flicker, but the shock of blue she’s expecting doesn't appear. “Benton,” she says, louder. “I need you to wake up.” He makes a dull noise. “I’m not letting you die,” she whispers. “We’re not dying here.”

She can feel him moving further away.

“Hey,” she says, desperately. “Don’t.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, just...just listen to me, okay? Have I told you I wanted to be a poet when I was growing up? No? This is the poem that made me want to be one. Just. Listen. Stay with me and listen.” She slides his hands under her layers, against her bare skin, and hisses.

“Are you listening?”

She inhales, and begins to speak.

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST DUE SOUTH FIC! 
> 
> (A lie, probably, I'm sure I wrote some when I was 12, but you get what I mean.)
> 
> What a strange and wonderful feeling!
> 
> Sorry it's so angsty, Tea.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Things You Said Under the Stars, and in the Grass (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838805) by [ExpatGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl)




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